Alastor Whittman suuure had a ring to it, old pal...
"In for a pound! Feel that, Al? Only that big and already giving off signals! He'll rule the airwaves! Knock 'em dead by the end of a show, or have 'em eating out of the palm of his hand...!"
"He! Hahah! No no, we're certainly having a daughter. She'll run you - and hopefully I - around in circles!"
It wasn't really that Alastor cared whether their child was a son or daughter - they'd be his precious little monster either way - but he would be lying if he didn't feel an amused, motivated little spark trying to butt heads with Vox over it for no reason at all.
He scoffed, but he smirked. They'll just have to see, won't they...? But he felt the same. Why not make a quiet little wager, have a little fight about it? Whatever they may be- even if they change it later- that's still Vox's kid.
"They'll ask, 'Who set them up to this? Whose plan is in motion? The Media Demon's, or the Radio Demon's...?' But little do they know, our hands are helplessly tied... any scheme, any heart-theft is entirely outside of our awareness...! He's a terror of his own!! HAHAHAH!"
"And what an endless stream of miscreants and wannabe suitors we can delight in hunting! Ah, how fun it'll be to remind all of Hell that however charming she may look, Vox's daughter is not to be trifled with."
Once he wriggled his way out of belonging to Rosie, he could finally claim their child as his as well. But it's a technicality he doesn't dare risk until then.
"Hmm, perhaps a flaying - then hanging the skins from the power lines like flags. A warning~!"
Vox sat straighter, a current buzzing quickly between his diodes. Suitors. Fuck, that's right... if not for their looks, but there was the possibility of trying to get close to a being that had a close connection to two powerful overlords.
He's never met them, but he already wanted to splatter them.
"Y'know, I was thinking 'heads on pikes' for a gothic feel, but I'm gelling with the skin flag concept! Bra-vo."
"Who's to say we can't mix things up, hmm? You said your kills were always more improvised, might as well see what sort of fun little games we can make of it~"
The softness of having a baby together was one thing - but the fond pondering and planning of sadistic murder and gore felt all the more natural. Moderately decent food, their frequencies synced, tiny little blips of signal from their child, and fantasizing about hunting and killing together...
Even though Alastor knew he couldn't love the way Vox wanted, the way any man needed, the Radio Demon could possibly consider himself wooed.
Not that he'd give up the game so easily.
Tracing a claw along the underside of Vox's monitor, Alastor chuckled. "The perfect fantasy to settle for the evening. My bones are done with the weight they carry for the day - shall we turn in?"
He nodded. It would have been too suspicious to roll into a studio with a gun- too much noise, there- a knife or anything akin to rope. But to his benefit and violent joy, your average broadcasting studio was rife with occupational hazards.
Vox finally felt a relief tonight after what was a trying day. He hoped tomorrow would be something of a breather, allowing him to plan his upcoming first visit to the Hazbin Hotel. He'll crush the latter, of course, but he needed to take a little time to prep a few materials. A gift, perhaps...! Surely the princess would like one of the newer television models in the lobby. God knows that junker they had was years beyond its life span, but--
The snow glowed briefly against his screen with the touch, centering him from his thoughts. Left brighter for it, he at first nodded dumbly in response to the question.
Let's try again. He checked his internal clock. "Oh, shit- is it that late already...? Well. Time flies when you're having fun, huh?"
He pulled a hand away to knock upon the table. "Why don't I take care of all of this, and I'll join you after?"
"Aren't you a gentleman tonight? You really are trying to impress me," Alastor chuckled knowingly, standing from his seat and letting his claws gently slide along the bottom of Vox's frame as he left.
"It's cute. Don't mind if I fall asleep by the time you join me - your daughter has me far more tired than I've been in decades."
One last little flick of a diode, and Al practically sauntered off to the bedroom. He'd said he'd only want to cozy up tonight, but it was pretty funny to play the strings on him and see how far he could push before Vox either gave up on the promise or begged him.
God help him, he minutely leaned into the touch before he could stop himself, but in his remaining planted in his seat could only go so far. Vox kept himself almost professionally unreadable, but his gaze had locked in.
"Don't mind one bit. It's been... one hell of a day."
But it was the flick of the diode that was the true threat, his grip on the table tightening. Vox hated to see Alastor go, but was glad to watch him leave... because Valentino was absolutely right- No. Nooonononono.
He was messing with him. He was messing around and it was working, but he said he was tired so he needed to get his shit together.
He took a breath. Another. Then he stood to clear off the table and do as promised. It'd cool him down! Perfect.
Al had only a few things to his evening routine - a sip of seltzer in lieu of his nightcap, brush his teeth (yes, he did brush), and finally leaving out a small, shallow dish of sugar-water and flower petals from the day's bouquet for the fireflies. Not all of the little bugs ate, but offering a bit of something like nectar seemed to keep them around for just that little while longer in their adult stages...
Though he'd planned to stay awake and toy with Vox a bit more, have some fun, by the time Alastor was finally off his hooves and laying down in the bed a sense of relief washed over him.
Relief that the weight wasn't entirely on his pelvis anymore. Relief that this was his bed, made to his tastes, in the safe space his mate had created. Relief that the little one was doing well enough to keep peeping at him, no substance to the signal aside from trying to mimic the earlier frequencies. Once Alastor hung the monocle he liked to wear up and closed his eyes, the gentle back-and-forth buzzing with the pup lulled the Radio Demon into a pleasant slumber.
With everything scored away, it was time for him to do the same. After some freshening up, the day's events rather hit him like a ton of bricks, and greeting him in the mirror was a low battery display over his monitor. While he didn't truly have anything like a power source to speak of, there was a gag among his R&D team to keep that sort of visual feature in that Vox couldn't help but find amusing.
It helped remind him to rest, too. ...Sometimes.
So he wandered in, draping extra layers over a waiting chair as he noted that Alastor was- as warned- out like a light. It reminded him of times so long ago, and he briefly considered just camping out on the floor.
Instead, he stuck to his guns after some hesitation: There, behind? No... this side...? That side. He lifted the covers, and with near surgical precision, he slid beneath them while trying to elicit the least amount of movement possible. But it left him lying face to face, half an arm's length apart. Vox dimmed his monitor.
Al looked... peaceful, when he slept. Cute, even. This was the guy that scared the piss out of Hell... but just couldn't manage with him. Vox couldn't remember of any period where he had been genuinely afraid of the guy. He was a freak, sure, but... no matter how much he claimed to be a creature- a monster- the Media Demon didn't ever really see it.
All Vox saw was an unrepentant brat. ...And he loved him, in part, for that.
God damn it, Vince... you really are as pathetic as he says you are.
Yet as he slowly moved one hand across the gap, sliding from its spot beneath the covers until it found his, he slowly clasped anyway. It was close enough that he, with a snail's pace, brought it in closer, closer... until he could touch his lips to the knuckles.
So be it.
His screen went dark completely. Though it would be while before he actually slept, ever the night owl, he could at least try to doze... and mull over everything in the limo.
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divinetree2025-10-07 08:11 pm
no subject
"In for a pound! Feel that, Al? Only that big and already giving off signals! He'll rule the airwaves! Knock 'em dead by the end of a show, or have 'em eating out of the palm of his hand...!"
no subject
It wasn't really that Alastor cared whether their child was a son or daughter - they'd be his precious little monster either way - but he would be lying if he didn't feel an amused, motivated little spark trying to butt heads with Vox over it for no reason at all.
"Her broadcasting will steal everyone's hearts!"
no subject
"They'll ask, 'Who set them up to this? Whose plan is in motion? The Media Demon's, or the Radio Demon's...?' But little do they know, our hands are helplessly tied... any scheme, any heart-theft is entirely outside of our awareness...! He's a terror of his own!! HAHAHAH!"
no subject
Once he wriggled his way out of belonging to Rosie, he could finally claim their child as his as well. But it's a technicality he doesn't dare risk until then.
"Hmm, perhaps a flaying - then hanging the skins from the power lines like flags. A warning~!"
no subject
He's never met them, but he already wanted to splatter them.
"Y'know, I was thinking 'heads on pikes' for a gothic feel, but I'm gelling with the skin flag concept! Bra-vo."
God, that was attractive.
no subject
The softness of having a baby together was one thing - but the fond pondering and planning of sadistic murder and gore felt all the more natural. Moderately decent food, their frequencies synced, tiny little blips of signal from their child, and fantasizing about hunting and killing together...
Even though Alastor knew he couldn't love the way Vox wanted, the way any man needed, the Radio Demon could possibly consider himself wooed.
Not that he'd give up the game so easily.
Tracing a claw along the underside of Vox's monitor, Alastor chuckled. "The perfect fantasy to settle for the evening. My bones are done with the weight they carry for the day - shall we turn in?"
no subject
Vox finally felt a relief tonight after what was a trying day. He hoped tomorrow would be something of a breather, allowing him to plan his upcoming first visit to the Hazbin Hotel. He'll crush the latter, of course, but he needed to take a little time to prep a few materials. A gift, perhaps...! Surely the princess would like one of the newer television models in the lobby. God knows that junker they had was years beyond its life span, but--
The snow glowed briefly against his screen with the touch, centering him from his thoughts. Left brighter for it, he at first nodded dumbly in response to the question.
Let's try again. He checked his internal clock. "Oh, shit- is it that late already...? Well. Time flies when you're having fun, huh?"
He pulled a hand away to knock upon the table. "Why don't I take care of all of this, and I'll join you after?"
no subject
"It's cute. Don't mind if I fall asleep by the time you join me - your daughter has me far more tired than I've been in decades."
One last little flick of a diode, and Al practically sauntered off to the bedroom. He'd said he'd only want to cozy up tonight, but it was pretty funny to play the strings on him and see how far he could push before Vox either gave up on the promise or begged him.
Heh. He's in for it.
no subject
"Don't mind one bit. It's been... one hell of a day."
But it was the flick of the diode that was the true threat, his grip on the table tightening. Vox hated to see Alastor go, but was glad to watch him leave... because Valentino was absolutely right- No. Nooonononono.
He was messing with him. He was messing around and it was working, but he said he was tired so he needed to get his shit together.
He took a breath. Another. Then he stood to clear off the table and do as promised. It'd cool him down! Perfect.
no subject
Though he'd planned to stay awake and toy with Vox a bit more, have some fun, by the time Alastor was finally off his hooves and laying down in the bed a sense of relief washed over him.
Relief that the weight wasn't entirely on his pelvis anymore. Relief that this was his bed, made to his tastes, in the safe space his mate had created. Relief that the little one was doing well enough to keep peeping at him, no substance to the signal aside from trying to mimic the earlier frequencies. Once Alastor hung the monocle he liked to wear up and closed his eyes, the gentle back-and-forth buzzing with the pup lulled the Radio Demon into a pleasant slumber.
no subject
It helped remind him to rest, too. ...Sometimes.
So he wandered in, draping extra layers over a waiting chair as he noted that Alastor was- as warned- out like a light. It reminded him of times so long ago, and he briefly considered just camping out on the floor.
Instead, he stuck to his guns after some hesitation: There, behind? No... this side...? That side. He lifted the covers, and with near surgical precision, he slid beneath them while trying to elicit the least amount of movement possible. But it left him lying face to face, half an arm's length apart. Vox dimmed his monitor.
Al looked... peaceful, when he slept. Cute, even. This was the guy that scared the piss out of Hell... but just couldn't manage with him. Vox couldn't remember of any period where he had been genuinely afraid of the guy. He was a freak, sure, but... no matter how much he claimed to be a creature- a monster- the Media Demon didn't ever really see it.
All Vox saw was an unrepentant brat. ...And he loved him, in part, for that.
God damn it, Vince... you really are as pathetic as he says you are.
Yet as he slowly moved one hand across the gap, sliding from its spot beneath the covers until it found his, he slowly clasped anyway. It was close enough that he, with a snail's pace, brought it in closer, closer... until he could touch his lips to the knuckles.
So be it.
His screen went dark completely. Though it would be while before he actually slept, ever the night owl, he could at least try to doze... and mull over everything in the limo.